


Being a Winchester

by snarkangel (eskimita)



Series: The Winchester Brothers [1]
Category: Criminal Minds, Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Dean is an ass, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Other, Spencer is a Winchester, Temporary Character Death, canon compliant character death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-10 05:23:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3278357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eskimita/pseuds/snarkangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If there was one thing that Spencer knew with certainty, it was that Winchesters always looked out for each other, always protected each other, no matter what.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This work has consumed my mind completely. It's a complete divergence from canon at season four of both shows, but mostly canon until then.  
> Rather than being born in 1980, Spencer and Sam are fraternal twins, both born in 1983.
> 
> Without SpencerRemyLvr, this story would never have been born, so this is for you.

On May 2, 1983, Dean Winchester held his baby brothers for the first time. Both of them were the length of mommy’s arm, wiggly and red. They were tiny things, in Dean’s opinion, even if mommy said that they were big for twins. He couldn’t imagine smaller babies being possible, even if mommy said that it was true. Dean took one look at the babies and decided that he liked them well enough, for now. They were noisy and they smelled funny, but he didn’t want to get rid of them. After all, they were family and nothing mattered more to a Winchester than family. As he watched over the sleeping babies, Dean promised his mommy that he would always be there when they needed him. He would do anything to keep his baby brothers safe. It was his job.

On November 2, 1983, Dean Winchester carried his baby brothers out of their burning house with tears streaming down his face. Sammy stared at him with wide eyes, one fat baby fist reaching up to pat at his wet cheek. The tiny voice that squeaked out “De?” just made him cry harder. Mommy had been so proud that Sammy’s first word had been Dean’s name. Spencer, so unlike his twin, didn’t speak. Instead, he burrowed into Dean’s tiny shoulder, snuffling into his shirt as he cried. Mommy was convinced that Spencer understood more of what happened around him than he let on, that he knew what they were saying when they talked about him. Dean hoped not. He didn’t want his baby brother to know that mommy was dead, that she’d been burned up. He wanted to protect Sammy and Spencer, just like he’d promised mommy.

On November 5, 1983, Dean Winchester stood at his mommy’s grave, a handful of flowers lying in the dirt in front of her tombstone. His voice quavered as he told mommy about how he’d saved Sammy and Spencer from the fire, about how he’d kept his brothers safe just like he’d promised her. When he told mommy that they were going to be leaving Lawrence, that daddy said he’d found work somewhere else, new tears gathered in the corners of Dean’s eyes, even though he’d promised daddy that he would be a big boy, that he would be tough. He didn’t want to leave mommy, but daddy said that they had no choice. Right before he left mommy’s grave, Dean kneeled down so that daddy wouldn’t be able to hear him when he made his last promise. “I’ll take care of the boys, mommy. I promise that I’ll keep them safe forever. I’ll never leave them.”

* * *

 

“I know what daddy does,” Dean tore his eyes away from watching Sammy play soccer and glanced over at Spencer. He was curled up in the grass with a book so big it made Dean’s head hurt, glasses pushed up high on his nose. Dad said that Spencer had an extra dose of mom’s smarts, which was why he read so much. Dean just thought it was because he was weird. After all, Dean and Sammy were both smart but they didn’t read nearly as much as Spencer did. Well, Sammy did sometimes, when they couldn’t afford to put him in soccer, but most of the time he wanted to be outside and playing.

“I know that daddy isn’t a salesman like he tells people. Salesmen don’t carry as many guns as daddy does.” The six year old brushed his bangs out of his face and looked up at Dean, hazel eyes shining. The serious look in those eyes made Dean swallow nervously. Spencer had always been too smart for his own good and if he’d truly figured out what dad did, it could only lead to trouble for all of them. He might be smart, but that didn’t mean that Spencer knew when he shouldn’t say something to someone new. “I found his notebook, you know, the one he’s always writing in. He kills monsters like the one that killed mommy, doesn’t he? That’s why he makes us do salt lines and stuff. He doesn’t want the monsters to get in.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Spencer.” Dean had gotten good at lying to his brothers over the years, especially when money was tight or when dad came home with injuries he couldn’t explain. It was necessity, in Dean’s eyes, part of protecting his brothers like he’d promised mom all those years ago. He would always protect his brothers, even from their own genius minds. He didn’t even feel guilty about the lie anymore, like he had a few years ago. It was necessary to keep Spencer safe. “Monsters don’t exist. Dad sells knives. Read your book and we’ll go get some ice cream after Sammy’s game.”

Spencer looked back down at his book and Dean turned his attention back to Sammy, watching as he clumsily kicked the ball towards the goal. When Spencer spoke again it was so quiet that Dean almost missed it. “I don’t mind that daddy kills monsters. That’s what Winchesters do. We protect our family, no matter what. Daddy’s just protecting us. Someday, I’m going to kill monsters too, so I can keep us safe, just like daddy does.”

* * *

 

On October 9, 1990, Dean woke up as dad opened the door to their motel room, a scowl marring his face. He was still wearing the clothes Dean had seen him in last night when he headed to the bar down the road. Dean was pretty sure that he hadn’t had a hunt, but maybe he was wrong. Dad sure looked like he’d been out hunting all night, even if he didn’t have any visible injuries. When he saw that Dean was awake, dad sighed and sat down on the bed next to him, laying a heavy hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“Spencer ran away last night, son.” Dad squeezed at Dean’s neck when he made to get up to search for his brother. “No Dean. I already looked for him. He’s long gone. He left us. I need you to take care of Sam for me, Dean. You know how close the twins were. Spencer’s gone now, so you need to keep Sam safe, okay? Promise me, Dean. Sam needs to be your main concern now. Spencer chose his path.”

On October 10, 1990, Dean Winchester looked Sam in the eye and glared at him, ignoring the tears in his brother’s eyes. He knew that this was going to hurt Sam more than it hurt him, that Sam wasn’t going to understand why Dean and dad were so insistent, but this was the only way to keep Sam safe and Dean would do anything to keep Sam safe. He was all Dean had left, after all. “We don’t have another brother. He didn’t want us anymore so he left. You don’t do that to family, Sam. Forget about Spencer. We’re better off without him anyway.”

* * *

 

It hadn’t been difficult to figure out that dad wasn’t a travelling salesman. Sammy may have bought the lie, but Spencer couldn’t. Salesmen didn’t carry guns with strange silver bullets or pour salt in front of the door at night. Salesmen didn’t come home covered in scratches and in need of stitches, mumbling about demons and werewolves. Salesmen didn’t keep notebooks with descriptions of monsters in them. Dad was a monster hunter like Van Helsing in _Dracula_ , Spencer just knew it.

When Spencer asked dad what sorts of monsters he fought, he’d expected the man to lie to him, to tell him that monsters didn’t exist like Dean had. He’d expected dad to tell him to stop reading horror novels, to focus on books that were more appropriate for his age. He hadn’t anticipated this reaction at all.

Huddled in the back seat of the Impala, alone for the first time in memory, Spencer couldn’t help but listen to what dad was telling him, even if he wanted nothing more than to ignore it. Since he’d figured out what dad really did, Spencer had thought that when he let dad know that he knew, dad would tell him why he hunted monsters, why they were constantly on the move. He had never expected dad to shove him in the car and drive away from his brothers. He wanted to pretend that this was all a nightmare, that he would wake up in the morning curled between Sammy and Dean like he always was. His mind had never been good at deceiving him, though, so he knew all too well that this was real, that this was happening.

“I don’t want to do this Spencer, but it’s the only way to keep you boys safe. You’re so smart son, just like your mom was. I should’ve known that you would figure it out soon, but I’d hoped for more time.” Dad glanced back at Spencer and shook his head. There was a small spark of regret in his eyes, but he blinked and the emotion was gone, hidden once more in dad’s usual indifference. “What I do, what Dean and Sam are going to learn to do, you don’t have it in you. You’re book smart, but you don’t have it in you to take down the monsters that I go after. If I tried to train you to hunt, you’d end up dead within the month, and I can’t risk that. You’re my son and it’s my job to protect you. I’m taking you to stay with your mom’s cousin. She’ll take care of you until you go off to college.”

“Why can’t I stay with you, dad? I don’t want to leave. I want to stay with Dean and Sam. I don’t want to stay with a complete stranger. You know that people don’t react well to me.” Spencer curled up on himself, staring out the window at the lights of Las Vegas. Usually, he would love the sight of a city this big, he would be fascinated with learning about it, but tonight he could barely see the flashing signs of the Strip. His thoughts were all focused inwards. In his seven years, Spencer had never been away from Sam and Dean for more than a few hours. The thought of leaving his brothers- his only friends- made him want to cry but Dean had told him years ago that dudes didn’t have chick flick moments so he held the tears back. “Can’t I stay with you and just not hunt? I could learn to do something else to help. Maybe I could do research for you! Please don’t make me leave.”

“No you can’t stay with us!” Spencer flinched at the growl in dad’s voice. He’d heard dad get angry before, but never at him, and never like that. Dad sounded just like the kids who made fun of Spencer for being so much smarter than them, like he hated Spencer because he was different. “What if a demon attacked you and we were in the middle of a fight? You being there would put your brothers at risk. They would both do something stupid trying to keep you safe. I can’t risk that. You’re going to go live with Diana and you’re going to go to school. If you really want to be useful, become an FBI agent; keep your brothers off the most wanted list. This is for your protection, Spencer, yours and your brothers’. Now listen carefully,” John met Spencer’s eyes in the rear-view mirror. Satisfied that Spencer was still paying attention to him, he continued. “Diana is schizophrenic but sometimes the voices she hears are relevant to hunting. We don’t know why they are, but they can be helpful. They talk about demons and monsters, about attacks that are going to take place. If you hear anything like that, you call me, do you understand? That’s what you can do to help me.”

Spencer nodded, eyes wide. He couldn’t believe that dad was sending him away to live with a family member he had never met before. Dad had always told him that family came first, that no one should ever matter more to him than his brothers did. Yet here dad was, sending Spencer away because he wasn’t built like Sam and Dean, because he didn’t look like a fighter. Spencer didn’t want to call his dad a hypocrite, but he couldn’t help but think it. Swallowing as dad pulled into the driveway of a middle class house, Spencer swore that he would find a way to prove his worth to his dad, to prove he wasn’t useless as a hunter. He would do whatever it took to keep his brothers safe because that was his job as a Winchester, but he would also do whatever it took to make his dad accept that he could hunt like he did, that he could work alongside his brothers. He would make sure that he wasn’t separated from them for longer than necessary.

* * *

 

Spencer hated the second weekend of October with a passion. While most thirteen year olds were focusing on what horror movies they wanted to stay up late to watch, or what costume they were going to wear to school on Halloween, Spencer was cleaning his dorm room, hiding away anything he didn’t want John Winchester to see. He hated having to pretend he was something other than what he was, but John wouldn’t accept anything other than the image he had in his head of the weak boy Spencer had once been, before life had forced him to grow up.

Six years ago, when John had abandoned him on William and Diana Reid’s doorstep, Spencer had been a scared child, terrified of being separated from his brothers. He’d never had any friends outside of the family. He’d avoided speaking to anyone other than his brothers and father if he could get away with it. Now, as a freshman in college, five years younger than his classmates, Spencer was a jaded teenager, distrustful of anyone and everyone around him. He tutored students older than him because it put him in contact with other people at his intellectual level and people his age because it made people think he was building relationships. The years of separation from his family had hurt Spencer more than he cared to admit, but they had also pushed him to succeed, to exceed expectations. Anyone looking at him would have said that Spencer appeared to be an average kid with an above average intelligence, determined to make his dad proud of him. John (he hadn’t been dad since the day he abandoned him) wanted Spencer to join the FBI so that he could cover his brothers’ tracks when they got older, so he could keep them out of jail. He thought that Spencer would only ever be good for making sure that Sam and Dean stayed out of jail, that he couldn’t handle the realities of hunting. Spencer knew that he could do better than that.

Three years ago John had introduced Spencer to Bobby Singer with instructions to call Bobby if Diana heard anything hunters might need to know. Bobby was unofficially in charge of making sure that hunters showed up somewhere there might be a problem. If something panned out as supernatural, Bobby was the one who knew how to handle it. In the course of phone calls they’d exchanged, Bobby had become somewhat of a mentor for Spencer. He had given Spencer advice on subjects he should study if he wanted to be an expert in hunter lore and told Spencer about an elite unit of the FBI that had inadvertently come across some supernatural baddies over the years. The BAU, according to Bobby, dealt with the scummiest of the scum of humanity, the serial killers local police didn’t have the resources to catch. If Spencer really wanted to protect his brothers, he would be best off in the BAU. The fact that one of the founding members was also a hunter didn’t hurt. Bobby had promised to introduce Spencer to him when he thought that Spencer was ready for more. As a foundation for his career, it was a promising cornerstone.

Spencer shoved his notebook under the mattress, concealing the last bit of evidence that he was anything more than an extremely young freshman, just as a heavy knock resounded from his door. He knew it would be John, here for his annual reminder of Spencer’s perceived failures. Every October, without fail, John would show up and remind him that he was only good for keeping Sam and Dean out of jail before disappearing for another year, off to hunt god knows what with his brothers. The visits were never longer than an hour, and they always left Spencer feeling like he was useless. Sighing, Spencer opened the door and stepped aside as John entered the room, making sure that he was as far out of the man’s way as he could be without backing into the hallway. He kept his eyes on the floor, not wanting to risk the hunter’s anger for any ‘cheek’ he might have to offer. It seemed that as the years progressed, the smallest thing could set John off, even if it was completely unintentional on Spencer’s part.  The anger his father directed at him was enough to make Spencer avoid speaking to John if he could. John may not have been outwardly abusive to the boys while Spencer was still living with them, but he was leery of the man, especially now. He could easily see John hitting him now.

“So,” John’s voice was laden with disappointment, as it always was when he spoke to Spencer. He could be talking about the weather and he’d still find some way to make it sound as though he believed that it was Spencer’s fault it wasn’t perfect. “You’re in college. I suppose you think that’s some sort of accomplishment, something to be proud of. What are you studying?”

“Physics and mathematics, sir _.” And Greek, Latin, and Sumerian_ , Spencer added silently. John didn’t need to know that. He thought Spencer wasn’t cut out to be a hunter, after all.  If he knew that Spencer intended to become a linguist as well as a scientist, he would most likely lose his temper. The knowledge that Spencer spent his free time learning everything he could about hunting wouldn’t be any more welcome. John thought that anything that wasn’t directly related to ganking monsters was a complete waste of time, if it didn’t involve his car.

“Huh. And you’ll be able to get into the FBI with degrees like those?” Spencer glanced up and met John’s steely gaze, nodding once. He wouldn’t allow John to intimidate him when it came to his education. John had no say in what he chose to study. He’d already agreed to the career path that John wanted him to take, because he desired to keep his brothers safe. That was as compliant as Spencer was willing to be. “Good. You need to get into the FBI. You’ll need to keep an eye out for your brothers. They can’t always cover their tracks. If they end up in jail because you weren’t able to keep them safe-” John trailed off with a glare and Spencer knew what was left unsaid. The outright aggression had been a recent development, in the last year. John had yet to hit him, but Spencer knew that the desire was there, that he wanted nothing more than to lash out at Spencer for reasons he didn’t understand. He was holding his breath until the day that John’s self control broke.

Spencer bit back the urge to ask about his brothers, knowing that John wouldn’t tell him. It may be his responsibility to keep his brothers safe, but that didn’t mean John would tell him how they were. He’d tried to ask, during John’s first visit all those years ago, only to be rebuffed. John had made it clear to him that Sam and Dean weren’t his concern as long as they weren’t in jail and left it at that. After that, Spencer had taken to writing letters to his brothers everyday, filling notebook after notebook with the things he wanted to tell them. John could try and convince him that the three of them were no longer brothers because John had some sort of vendetta against Spencer, but he refused to believe it. Someday he’d see them again, it was only a matter of time. Until then, he relied on what little news Bobby could give him of how they were doing.

John was walking around the room, taking in the books on the shelf and the few personal items Spencer had left out. Spencer had been careful to hide all his books on hunting, knowing that John would be pissed if he found them. Instead, his shelves were full of the books that he needed for his general classes and a few extra physics books. It looked like the dorm room of any other college student, not the dorm room of a hunter in training. Even knowing how smart Spencer was, and his capability to learn, hadn’t convinced John that Spencer could be helpful to him in any way.

“How are you paying for all this?” John set down Spencer’s laptop and advanced on the boy. Unconsciously, Spencer flinched back from him, unable to stop the instinct to protect himself. “You using Diana’s money for this, boy?”

“No sir!” Spencer shook his head vehemently. He’d prided himself on the fact that he hadn’t taken any money from Diana. It had been hard to make sure he would have enough money for college, but he’d managed to save up the money he needed. His father may have abandoned him, but he was still a Winchester, he still had the infamous Winchester pride. “I have scholarships paying for tuition and the dorm room. Everything else I get from tutoring and hustling pool. I didn’t take any of her money, I swear.”

John eyed him for a long moment before nodding. There was a small glimmer of pride in his gaze for a fraction of a second, gone before Spencer could be sure that it had ever really been there at all. “Good. You… keep up the good work. I need to get back to my boys.”

Spencer remained where he was standing as John left, steadfastly ignoring how much it hurt to have John exclude him so obviously. He’d known that John no longer saw him as part of the family, but hearing such an obvious statement still hurt. It wasn’t the first time John ignored the fact that Spencer was also one of his sons, but every time made him want to lash out.  Family was supposed to matter more than anything else, that’s what Dean had always told him and Sam when they were younger. To see John ignore that made Spencer wonder if all the times he’d told the boys that they had to keep each other safe were lies. Collapsing on his bed, Spencer pulled out his notebook and a pen. He needed to write a few letters before he headed to his night class.

> _Dear Sam and Dean,_
> 
> _Dad came to visit me today. Is it wrong that I hate his visits more each year? I can’t help it. He doesn’t believe that I’m any good at anything, that I’m worth anything._
> 
> _I miss you both. I know that we’ve all changed in the six years since dad sent me away, but you’re still my brothers. You’re still the people who matter most to me in the world._
> 
> _I will become a hunter, a good one. I will be able to fight with you, to defend you and protect you. No matter how hard it is, I will join you. I’m already learning Latin, Greek, and Sumerian, and memorizing all the hunting lore Bobby can throw at me. Someday I’ll be hunting with you like I’m meant to._
> 
> _I miss you,_
> 
> _Spencer_

* * *

 

Spencer ignored the collective groans around him as he laid his cards on the table and gathered the pile of cash in front of him. The beginning of the year poker game had become a tradition since his freshman year, five years ago. Every year the freshmen underestimated him because he was younger than them, because he wasn’t as social as they were. Without fail, Spencer won every game and walked away with all the money. Even though he was now working on his second doctorate, Spencer was not above swindling a new group of freshmen out of their summer savings. It wasn’t his fault they were naïve enough to underestimate him. He saw it as a learning opportunity for people who’d never left the security of home before. College was a tough place if they failed to learn to adapt and survive.

Grabbing his bag and stuffing the money inside, Spencer headed to his dorm room, leaving the sounds of a party in full swing behind him. He had better things to do than participate in a drunken orgy, as these parties were wont to turn into. Hauling out his safe, Spencer counted the money, a satisfied smile on his face as he locked it up and hid it again. He’d won a pretty significant amount this year. With the money he’d saved up from tutoring and past poker games, he should be able to pay for Diana’s next year at Bennington and cover Sammy’s tuition for the semester. Money would be tight for Spencer himself, but he’d survived on less. Taking care of Diana and Sam was important to him.

Diana was the only mother Spencer had ever known, and she was the best mother he could ask for. When John had left him on Diana’s doorstep, Spencer had been angry and rebellious. Diana had never lost patience with him; she’d simply waited for the day that the seven year old realized no one would be coming to take him back to his brothers. When that day came, Diana had wrapped her arms around Spencer, whispering promises of love and devotion to the heartbroken little boy.

Diana was the one who taught Spencer about hunting, revealing to him the Campbell family history. She had Spencer read all the old legends of unexplained things as practice, a learning exercise so that Spencer would know what he was dealing with in any situation he might face. Because of Diana, Spencer’s knowledge of the supernatural had long ago surpassed Bobby’s.

When Diana’s schizophrenia had started to get worse, Spencer had known it was only a matter of time before he needed to institutionalize her. Years of researching different sanitariums had shown him that only Bennington, a sanitarium in Vegas, would give him the freedom to ensure that his mother was protected from both her own mind and the things that go bump in the night. Even though it was one of the more expensive sanitariums, Diana’s safety was worth the world to Spencer. She was all he had as long as John insisted that he stay away from his brothers. If there was one lesson Spencer had learned in his life, it was that he would do anything for family, even if he had to make sacrifices himself.

The phone call Spencer had received when Sammy left for Stanford was the last one he had expected. Rather than hearing Bobby’s gruff but amicable voice, John Winchester had been on the other end. John had told him that Sam had run away to go to college and ordered him to take care of his brother, insulting him in the same breath. Spencer knew what John had meant by the order, that John wanted Sam to go back to hunting and forget about college, but he’d interpreted it in his own manner. Rather than fetch Sam and send him home, Spencer had hitched a ride to Palo Alto and arranged to pay for Sam’s schooling himself. If his brother wanted to go to school, Spencer was ready to do anything he needed to in order to make sure that Sam achieved his dream. Sam deserved the chance to break free from the world of hunting if he wanted to.

He’d thought of visiting Sam at school, of checking to see how his twin was doing, what he was like now that they were more grown up. He’d even arranged a ride to take him up to the Stanford campus. When he got there, Spencer had wandered around aimlessly for a few hours before he found Sam, spotted him walking with a classmate towards the library. Seeing Sam happy after eleven years of separation had hurt more than Spencer thought it would. Before he could work up the courage to approach his brother and dredge up years of history, Spencer had forced himself to turn around and return to the car. Sam had grown up. Being reminded of the brother who disappeared wouldn’t do him any good. When he got back to Pasadena, Spencer had locked away the notebooks filled with letters to Sam and Dean, promising himself that he would never send them to his brothers. He would protect them, keep them out of prison, but he wouldn’t force himself back into their lives. Eleven years was a long time, after all, and they’d probably done their best to forget about him.

* * *

 

“Bobby told me that you’re interested in joining the FBI,” Spencer looked up from the chessboard he’d been studying and blinked owlishly at the stranger standing across from him. He’d never seen the man before, and he couldn’t think of anyone Bobby said might be visiting Southern California. “May I?” The man waited for Spencer’s nod before sitting down and moving a white pawn. Once the move was complete, he glanced up at Spencer and smiled politely. “I apologize, I should’ve introduced myself. My name is Jason Gideon. I work for the BAU.”

Spencer toyed with one of his own pawns before moving it forward and looking up again. This was an unexpected development, to say the least. Usually, if Bobby sent someone to talk to him it was because they needed help researching a monster, not because they were one of the first hunters to successfully pursue a career in law enforcement. All of a sudden, everything made sense. “You’re the hunter. Bobby told me that there was one but I never thought I’d be meeting you this soon. I’m not even old enough to go to the Academy. Why are you here?”

Gideon smiled, and leaned forward, hunching his shoulders slightly. “Believe it or not, I’m not here searching you out. The FBI has all the elite teams do recruitment tours. One of my colleagues and I are touring all of the schools in California. We’re doing a lecture tonight, if you want to come. I think you could really fit in with the BAU if you’re interested. Regardless of your age, I’d like to see you on my team. Your reputation, proceeds you, Spencer Reid,” Gideon smiled again at Spencer’s look of shock. “You have potential to be a great profiler, kid. I just want to give you that chance.”

In a state of mild shock, Spencer rubbed one finger along the edge of the chessboard. He hadn’t told anyone outside of the university that he’d changed his name on his eighteenth birthday, wanting to avoid having John Winchester’s name on his doctorates. Telling Bobby would’ve sparked a lecture on how he was being an idjit and telling John had never been an option. If Gideon knew that, he’d done his research, which meant that he really wanted Spencer for the BAU, not that he was talking to him as a favor to Bobby. The opportunity he was offering was exactly what Spencer had been hoping for for years. The chance to help catch human serial killers while keeping his brothers safe was one he’d been dreaming about since he’d learned that it was an option. He would have to be an idiot to pass it up. Making his next move, Spencer spoke up. “What about my brothers? You know who I am, so you know who they are and what they do. I intend to do everything in my power to keep them out of jail. Will that be a problem for you?”

“If they don’t kill any humans then we won’t have a problem.” Gideon snorted at Spencer’s surprised look. “You aren’t the first hunter I’ve recruited for the FBI, nor are you the first to want to keep family members out of prison for hunting. I’ve helped several people in similar circumstances. There are more of us than you’d think. Hunters are disciplined enough that if they really want to, they make fine FBI agents. If you were to join the BAU, you would have the resources of the FBI at your disposal, within reason. That includes one of the greatest technical geniuses I’ve ever met, an up and coming researcher of all things supernatural. There would be plenty of tools available to you to keep your brothers out of the system. What do you think? Is it something that you’re interested in?”

“I think,” Spencer smiled slowly, “I would be a fool to turn down what could very well be a once in a lifetime offer. What do I need to do to get enrolled in the Academy?”


	2. Takin' Care of Business

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter encompasses the first half of season one of both shows. Some Criminal Minds episodes have been tweaked to suit my purposes so if that bothers you, click the back button now. I claim ownership of neither show; I just have too much time on my hands.
> 
> Much to the consternation of readers of my other stories, this has completely taken over my life, so it might be updated again soon, depending on the cooperation of my muse.

_Steady your arm, keep both eyes open, safety off, you’ll never be a good hunter, aim, pull the trigger, follow through._ Spencer sighed as, once again; his bullet hit off the mark, shaking his head. Despite Hotch’s advice the day before, he’d still managed to fail his firearm qualification. The part of his mind that was constantly analyzing his every move knew that he’d hesitated when he heard John’s voice, when he’d heard John’s doubts about him. It threw off his arm, made him unsteady. Setting the gun down in front of him, Spencer tugged on his sleeve and bit his lip. He didn’t want to face the rest of his team knowing that someone would tell them that he’d failed his qualification. It felt too much like John’s words were the truth, that he really was nothing but a useful mind. Leaving the range, Spencer wanted nothing more than to go home and sulk for a few minutes, to feel sorry for himself before he pieced himself back together and focused on work. He didn’t have that luxury though; there was paperwork to be done. Steeling his nerves for whatever the team would throw at him, Spencer headed towards the elevators, steadfastly ignoring the part of his mind that was telling him that John had been right to send him away.

* * *

 

“Whaddya mean ya failed again?” There was a slamming sound, probably Bobby placing his beer, or a book, down on the coffee table. Spencer could almost see the other man settling down in his chair, whatever book he was reading at the time close at hand, hunting phones all ready in case he needed to cover for someone on a case. “It’s a damn gun, ya idjit, not rocket science. Hell, even if it was rocket science, ya shoulda passed. What the hell were ya thinkin’ about? Didn’t ya have someone there to help ya? There shouldn’t have been a problem for someone as smart as ya.”

Spencer’s hand tightened around the phone and he sighed. He shouldn’t have expected any other reaction from Bobby, the man had never sugarcoated things for him before, and he definitely wouldn’t start now. It was part of why he’d called Bobby, if he was being honest with himself. After Morgan’s teasing and Hotch’s offer to help him, Spencer had needed somebody to tell him to get his act together, to help him focus his mind on the problem at hand. Nobody else would’ve been as frank with him as Bobby was. Even if the lecture did make him want to defend himself on reflex, it was something Spencer knew that he needed. He needed to hear that he was being ridiculous and irrational.

“I’m waitin’ for an answer, ya idjit.” Bobby’s gruff voice was, as always, enough to get him out of his mind and focused on the conversation at hand. Huffing a laugh, Spencer adjusted his grip on the phone and explained.

“It was pathetic, Bobby.” Leaning his head against the break room doorframe, Spencer closed his eyes. “I picked up the gun and all I could hear was John Winchester telling me that I wasn’t cut out to be a hunter. It was stupid and I should have ignored it instead of allowing it to feed my doubts. It won’t happen again.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line before Bobby spoke again, a serious edge to his voice. “Yer daddy is a damn fine hunter but he’s a fool man an’ an idjit father. He saw how smart ya was an’ allowed it ta scare him. The things he told ya were all lies. Yer a damn good Fed an’ a damn good hunter. Don’t go believin’ anything else. Now you go pass that qualification an’ I’ll send ya some silver bullets.”

Spencer smiled as he moved into the room and sat down at the table, coffee in hand. He’d stepped away from the profile for a few minutes to make this phone call, so that he could focus on the case again and help the team catch the L.D.S.K. “Thank you, Bobby. I needed to hear that. Have you heard from Sam and Dean lately?”

As Bobby started to rant about ‘idjits who never call’, Spencer allowed himself to relax and focus on nothing but the sound of the older man’s voice. His failed qualification was forgotten for the moment. He could worry about that later. With Hotch’s help and Bobby’s confidence, it was only a matter of time before he passed. The phone call wasn’t long, but it was what Spencer needed. When he hung up, he was ready to face the world again, ready to catch this unsub before he could strike out at someone else. He would pass his qualification when they got back to Quantico, but right now there was something he could do to help, and he needed to do that.

* * *

 

Spencer stared up at Dowd, fingers tightening around the grip of the gun as he pointed it at the man’s forehead. Without hesitating, he pulled the trigger, blinking as the bullet left the muzzle of the gun and flew towards Dowd’s forehead. In the fraction of a second it took the bullet to hit Dowd, Spencer could hear all of John’s doubting words, all of the criticism the man had given him over the years. In that moment, Spencer realized that everything John had told him about why he was being abandoned, every time John had told him that he’d never be a good hunter, every single critique meant nothing. John Winchester’s opinion of him didn’t matter because Spencer could do this. He could be an FBI agent, and a hunter. He was more than capable of defending another person from a killer. There was no reason for him to struggle with shooting. Everything Bobby had told him earlier made sense now, in a way that left Spencer feeling more confident about himself. He could do this.

* * *

 

“What are you thinking about, kid?” Spencer looked up from his empty coffee cup and shrugged at Gideon, ignoring it when the man sat down across from him. Everyone else was sitting in the back of the plane, ignoring the two men as Gideon started to speak. Spencer appreciated the privacy, knowing that all of them wanted to offer him some sort of advice or comfort. They probably thought he was having a crisis of sorts because he’d just killed a man for the first time. Right now, he just wanted to focus on his own thoughts, not listen to the platitudes that his teammates might have to offer him.

“You shot someone today. There are bound to be some thoughts running through your mind that you need to get out. Talk to me.” Of course Gideon wouldn’t leave him alone. Of all of the other people on the plane, Gideon was the one who would understand what was going through his head. Gideon was the only other one who was a hunter, who knew what monsters were out there beyond the ones they saw every day at work. Spencer looked back down at his cup and took a moment to gather his thoughts before speaking.

“John always told me that hunters don’t kill people. It was worked into his lectures about why I had to keep Sam and Dean out of jail. They don’t kill people; they kill monsters, demons. The difference made it okay for them to do what they do, in his mind. I killed a person today.” Spencer pushed the cup away and buried his face in his hands. “Sam and Dean have been hunting for most of their lives and they’ve never killed a human being before. I did. I know that he was going to kill Hotch, that he was a criminal, but I still killed him. I should be feeling guilty that I ended a life today, but I’m not. I feel… relieved that it’s over. I didn’t even feel any guilt when I pulled the trigger. What kind of person does that make me?”

“You did the right thing, Spencer. You saved Hotch’s life today. That’s what matters. Sometimes, the humans are just as much monsters as the creatures your brothers hunt. This was one of those times. There will be others. What you did today was exactly what any other agent would have done in your situation.” Gideon’s soft words were exactly what Spencer needed to hear at that moment, the reassurance that he’d made the right call, that he wasn’t in the wrong for taking the life of a human in order to save his boss.

“I know you’re right. I do. Thank you.” Smiling, Spencer glanced over at the rest of the team. “Did they make you do a coin toss over who was going to come talk to me?”

“Nah.” Gideon returned his smile. “Morgan started talking about a date he had last week and I offered voluntarily. I would’ve come anyhow. It’s my job to make sure you’re alright.”

“Thank you again. Chess?” When Gideon nodded, Spencer pulled the chessboard out of his bag and set it up, turning it so that the white pieces were in front of Gideon. “Maybe I’ll beat you today.”

* * *

 

“Hey dad, this is going to sound crazy, but I think you need to go to Kansas, back to the house.” Spencer paused and stared at the phone. He couldn’t believe he was leaving this message, that he was calling John. He hadn’t talked to the man since he’d graduated from the academy. This was important, though. He’d been having these nightmares for weeks. There had to be something more to them than just bad dreams.  In his experience and research, these sorts of dreams didn’t just happen coincidentally. There was something wrong, something that was going to hurt his brothers. “I’m having these dreams. Dad, something is going to happen at our old house. Something is going to attack Sam and Dean. Please, go stop them before they get hurt. Please dad, go back and stop them.”

Spencer hung up the phone and sank down on his couch. He knew that these dreams meant something, even if his scientific mind rebelled against the idea of precognitive dreams. Stranger things had happened to him, after all. These dreams weren’t just happening for no reason, and he had to do something about it.  If he could do something to keep Sam and Dean safe, he would do whatever he could. They were his brothers. It was his job to make sure they were kept safe in any way he could. He just hoped that John would check his voicemail, that John would go and save the boys before it was too late. The last thing Spencer wanted to do was bury his brothers.

In the meantime, he needed to figure out what was causing him to have these dreams. He wasn’t psychic, as far as he knew, and Bobby had told him that being psychic wasn’t something that just popped up one day. There was something that had caused these dreams to start and he needed to figure it out before they got out of hand, especially if something similar started happening to Sammy. Twins had a tendency to show the same abilities, if one of them was having precognitive dreams, the chances were pretty strong that the other one was too. If there was something causing him, and possibly Sam, to have these dreams, Spencer needed to fix it. Standing up and moving to his bookshelf, Spencer grabbed all of the books he had on precognition. He had the next two days off and a fresh pot of coffee in the kitchen, it was time to get some research done.

* * *

 

“Have the dreams stopped since last week? I know your brothers figured out what was going on in Kansas. Did that get rid of them?” Spencer and Gideon were sitting in the latter’s office, completing paperwork from a few consults they had done in the past week. It had become a regular occurrence since Spencer joined the Bureau, the two of them would do their paperwork together and Gideon would ask about anything that might pertain to the supernatural that Spencer had been dealing with. Every few days, Spencer would find a case in a newspaper that might be supernatural and call John, leaving the story with him to investigate. When he’d started having premonitions, Gideon was the first person Spencer told. As a supervising agent and experienced hunter, Gideon needed to know what was going on with the youngest agent on the team. Gideon didn’t look up from his paperwork as he asked the question, pen continuing to move across the page.

“Hmm?” Spencer glanced up and paused, shaking his head slightly. “No. The focus has changed though. I see Elle… she’s on a train and there’s a man pointing a gun at her. The vision changes then and I’m on the train too. I have a microchip and I’m taking it out of a man’s arm. There are other people there too, but I don’t get any details of what they look like. I put the microchip into a bag and the man points his gun at my stomach. Then I wake up.”

“How do you feel when you wake up? Are you disoriented?” Gideon put his pen down and took his glasses off, meeting Spencer’s gaze. The fatherly gesture struck something deep in Spencer and he swallowed. John had never been concerned for him like Gideon was. “Have you told anyone else about the dreams?”

“I’ve been having migraines when I wake up and sometimes in the middle of the day too. And,” Spencer licked his lips and glanced over at Gideon’s desk, holding his hand out. Concentrating on the picture on the desk, Spencer flexed his fingers and the picture flew across the room and into his hand. “I can do that. I told John about the dream last week. I left him a voicemail. You’re the only person I’ve told about Elle. Where did she go again?”

“Texas,” Gideon’s phone started ringing and he stood and moved over to his desk, grabbing it while gesturing for Spencer to wait while he answered the call. “Gideon. DeVries cooperating?”

* * *

 

Spencer stared at the train that Elle was being held captive on, a sinking feeling in his stomach. He knew what he would have to do in order to save Elle and the other passengers. He’d seen it, although he wasn’t quite sure how successful he would be. He couldn’t see the outcome beyond him placing the microchip into the bag. That was what had him so apprehensive. The vision wasn’t exactly the most helpful. These visions were obviously supernatural in origin, but he didn’t know if that meant that the subject matter was also supernatural. He was about to go unarmed against a potentially supernatural unsub. It was the first time Spencer had ever been put in a situation where he might encounter the supernatural. For all that he’d spent his life studying the monsters that existed, he was terrified. Swallowing nervously, Spencer took a step towards the train, not at all surprised when Gideon clasped his shoulder to keep him close.

“No matter what, or who, you face in there, I know that you will make the right call. Just stay calm. You can do this.” Gideon let go of his shoulder and gently pushed him towards the train. The small vote of confidence was exactly what Spencer needed to force his body forward. He’d been trained to face down unsubs in volatile situations. He could do this. Taking a deep breath and focusing himself on the task ahead, Spencer stepped onto the train.

* * *

 

_It was too hot; he was going to suffocate. He had to get out of here; he had to get away before the entire house burned down around him. Gasping, Spencer ran towards the door, fighting the urge to start panicking. He could get out of here if he hurried. He had to hurry. He had to get back to his mom, to keep her safe. Reaching the door, Spencer held a hand out and-_

Shooting up, Spencer grabbed his chest, taking a deep breath to force himself to calm down. This was the third time this week that he’d had this nightmare. The idea of losing his mother to a fire had him shaking and fighting the urge to call Bennington to see if Diana was safe. Glancing at the clock, Spencer groaned when he saw that it wasn’t even five in the morning yet. There was no way he would be able to go back to sleep after that dream. Spencer threw his blanket off and stepped into his slippers, moving to the kitchen to make himself some coffee. He might as well get some reading done now that he was awake.

As he sat down on the couch, Spencer pulled a notebook out from between the cushions and wrote down the dream with shaking hands. He’d started documenting the dreams after the hostage situation in Texas, wanting to have the reference at hand in case any more of them came to fruition. He still hadn’t figured out what was causing them, despite the research he and Gideon had done. As far as they could tell, there was no reason for him to have suddenly started having premonitions, or telekinetic abilities. Something was going on with him, that much they were certain of. Whether or not that something was potentially harmful to him or anyone else was the real question.

In the meantime, Spencer was working on concealing his migraines from the team. They hadn’t yet reached a level of severity that meant that his work suffered, so he felt confident that no one but Gideon knew that he was in pain. On occasion though, when they were working on profiles, Spencer would feel a sharp pain in the back of his head, a pinching that made him hesitate in his ramblings. It was something that worried him, made him wonder if whatever was going on with his preternatural abilities was going to make it impossible for him to continue working. Gideon hadn’t seemed worried when he’d told him about it, telling him that there were more serious issues he could have been having and that he would figure out what was going on before it got too bad. All Spencer could do was hope that Gideon was right. The BAU was his family now. He didn’t want to leave because of something like this.

* * *

 

“Hungry,” Eddie Mays clutched at his stomach, doubling over as if he was in pain. “So hungry. Need it. Warm, still beating, flowing…”

Spencer frowned as he observed Mays, tugging on his hair idly as Mays’ behavior registered with him. The man was acting odd, even for someone with psychosis. Before Spencer could say anything to him, Hotch came back with the nurse to administer the antipsychotic. Spencer watched Mays’ actions carefully, looking for any physical clues that might let him know why Mays was setting off his internal alarms. Something about this unsub screamed creature to him. Running through the cannibalistic creatures he could remember off the top of his head, Spencer moved away from the cell, hoping he could focus if he was further away from the person raising questions. He hadn’t studied too many cannibalistic creatures because Bobby hadn’t met up with many of them, but he knew that they were out there. Right now, he couldn’t think of any that would fit Mays’ description. He’d have to call Gideon after he and Hotch interviewed the unsub and see if Gideon had any clue.

Returning to the cell so he could listen to Hotch’s interview, and interject questions as needed, Spencer made sure his gun was still at his side, just in case this unsub was a creature of some sort. Bobby had sent him a case of silver bullets a few weeks back with instructions that he only use them in his work gun, just in case.

Spencer listened to Hotch questioning Mays as he continued to run through the list of creatures he knew would drink blood, idly memorizing the conversation taking place around him.

“Before, I was bad. Very very bad. But I’m better now. Hungry though. So hungry.”

“What are you hungry for, Eddie?” Spencer moved closer to the cell, making sure that Mays knew he was talking to him. “Do you want anything in particular?”

Mays looked surprised for a moment before shaking his head and ducking it down so that his face was hidden. Spencer had to strain to hear him, but his answer came through clearly. “Blood, want the blood. Please, so hungry.”

Hotch looked confused and Spencer shook his head. “I couldn’t catch it, Hotch. Sorry.”

“That’s alright. I’m going to go question his mother. You stay with him and see if he says anything else useful.”

Spencer nodded and watched Hotch leave before turning back to Mays. The man was huddled on the cot in the cell again, mumbling about being hungry and wanting blood. Spencer moved closer, trying to see if there were any physical characteristics of being a creature that he could see. “What are you?”

* * *

 

“Gideon.”

“It’s Reid. Are you in your office right now?” Spencer looked into the cell where Hotch was attempting to talk to the unsub and shuddered, pulling his sweater tight against his body. He’d faced down psychotic unsubs before but none of them had set off his internal alarms like this one did. There was just something about Mays’ behavior that wasn’t what he expected to see from someone dealing with a psychotic episode. “I don’t think that our unsub is a human, Gideon. There’s something off about his behavior, something more than psychosis.”

There was a moment of nothing but static before Gideon spoke. Spencer could tell immediately that he was sitting up and focusing, his entire demeanor changing as he asked his question. “What do you need me to do?”

“Have Garcia run a search on cannibalistic killings in Boston. If the unsub isn’t human, he’s something that eats humans. Check specifically for missing stomachs, livers, and hearts. Do you have a list of cannibalistic creatures available? I can’t be sure I’m remembering all of them.”

I’ll take care of it.” Spencer could hear rustling that meant that Gideon was searching through the books on his desk. “I’ll call you back in ten minutes with what I find.”

Before Spencer could thank him, Gideon hung up. Slipping his phone back into his pocket, Spencer found his gaze drawn back to the unsub. He never thought that his first direct contact with the supernatural would be like this. Spencer had thought he’d run into a ghost or a demon, but the unsub was neither. Replacing his bottle of water with holy water earlier had ruled out demon possession. Frowning, Spencer listened to the unsub’s mumblings, trying to figure out what he was.

* * *

 

“Garcia, I need you to look something up for me.” Gideon looked up from his book and gestured towards her computers. “See if there have been any unusual homicides in Boston in the past two months.” He focused back on his book, hand reaching out to blindly grab for his coffee. Flipping through the pages, Gideon shook his head and grabbed another book, tossing the first book onto the table.

“Sir,” Garcia slid into her chair and pulled up a search, doing her best to ignore the papers that went flying as the book was thrown down. “There are dozens of murders in Boston every week. I’m going to need parameters to narrow it down.”

“Anything cannibalistic in nature. Look for teeth marks, missing body parts, chunks of flesh torn out, anything like that.”

“Oh ew.” Garcia grimaced and started typing, shaking her head lightly. “I’m going to need to go hold babies at the hospital just to erase these images from my mind.” She read through the files that popped up as quickly as possible, pausing when she found some that seemed promising. Clicking on a file, she turned to look at Gideon. “I found something.” When Gideon looked up, Garcia turned to the screen again and expanded the file, “Four weeks ago the body of a fifth grade teacher was found in her living room. Her liver and stomach were both missing. Nothing else in the file.”

Gideon was pulling out his phone and dialing Spencer before Garcia could say anything further. “Reid, I know what it is. No, Garcia did a search and it clicked for me. Your unsub is a rugaru. Fire should do the job. Get everyone out of there before you take care of it. Call me when it’s finished.”

“Um, sir?” Gideon looked up and found Garcia staring at him, her eyes wide. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I couldn’t help but overhear, since you’re in my office. Do you mind explaining what a rugaru is and what you just asked Reid to do?”

* * *

 

Spencer watched as the officers loaded Mays into the back of a cruiser to take him to the hospital and sighed, stepping forward out of the shadows. Setting a police cruiser on fire wasn’t exactly how he’d envisioned killing his first supernatural creature. The risk of harm to innocent civilians was larger than he would have liked. He wished that there was another way to dispose of Mays, but there wasn’t. Rugarus wouldn’t respond to silver bullets so he couldn’t shoot him. As he drew towards the light, one of the officers caught sight of him and turned towards him, stopping his partner from climbing in to the cruiser. “I just had something I needed you both to sign, if you would. It’s nothing big; just to make sure our paperwork is in order before we leave. We don’t want to leave more work for you than we absolutely have to.”

Both officers moved over to Spencer and he handed them the chain of custody papers that they needed to sign. Counting down in his head, Spencer made sure one last time that the officers were far enough from the car and drew in a deep breath. Fifteen seconds after the officers stepped away from the car, it burst into flames, killing Eddie Mays and eliminating any possibility of him killing again. Spencer held back a sigh of relief and pulled his phone out of his pocket as the police in the area jumped into action to extinguish the fire. He’d managed to make sure that all civilians were far enough away from the explosion that they didn’t get hurt. That was always a success in any hunter’s book. Slipping to the back of the gathering crowd, he dialed Gideon’s number.

“It’s finished. I imagine there will be more paperwork now, but it’s finished. I’ll tell you more when we get back to DC.”

* * *

 

“So you told Garcia?” Spencer set down the coffee he’d just poured and looked at Gideon, confusion in his eyes. Hunters did their best to avoid telling civilians about the existence of the supernatural. Unless they absolutely had to tell the truth, they would lie through their teeth. Telling Garcia was something Spencer had not seen Gideon ever doing. She may be an FBI analyst, but she was still a civilian. “What was her reaction?”

Shrugging, Gideon glanced up from the notebook he was writing in, not setting his pen down. Spencer thought he seemed rather unconcerned for someone who had just revealed that the monsters children had nightmares about were real. “She was surprised, disbelieving. She said that she was willing to give us the benefit of the doubt. I imagine that she’ll have some questions for you at some point. I told her that you would have more answers for her if she wanted them.”

Nodding, Spencer stirred a fair amount of sugar into his coffee. This was an unexpected development, but it wasn’t anything that he couldn’t handle. Garcia could potentially be a very helpful resource for hunters. Her ability to hack into any computer system in the country alone would be invaluable. With her on their side, they could do so much more than they were currently doing. “Do you think she’d be willing to help, once I tell her more? We could use another set of eyes to make sure we get all the supernatural cases handled. I’m sure we’ve missed a few when we’re out on cases or doing other things. Not to mention all of her other skills. Nobody knows computers like Garcia.”

He sat down across from Gideon and drank half of the coffee in the cup, sighing as the caffeine and sugar kicked in. Telling another member of the team about the supernatural had never crossed his mind before, but if they had to tell anyone, Garcia was the rational choice. Everyone else had a fixed belief of what was real and what wasn’t but Garcia had the desire to believe that _more_ existed. That the more was more malevolent than fantastic hardly mattered so long as her belief in more was grounded in something other than her own desires.

“You should eat something too. Coffee only does so much for your system.” Gideon pushed a plate of Danishes towards Spencer, waiting until he took one before nodding in satisfaction. The small gesture was one that was familiar between the two of them. Gideon had been making Spencer eat since he’d first joined the Bureau. “I told Bobby I’d make sure that you eat. Don’t make me a liar.”  
“I eat. I just prefer my breakfast in liquid form. The way you and the rest of the team act, people probably think that I starve myself.”

JJ entered the break room, smiling at the sight of Spencer eating something. She was even worse than Gideon about trying to force food on him. Spencer had once compared her to a mother bear and she’d just laughed and handed him an apple. “I hate to interrupt breakfast, but we have a case. Hotch wants everyone in the round table room in five.”

Spencer and Gideon both stood, gathering their coffee and Danishes before leaving the break room. It was time to focus on the job now. More talk about letting Garcia know about the supernatural could wait until after this case.

* * *

 

“You’ve reached SSA Dr. Spencer Reid. I’m not available right now, but if you leave your name, number, and a brief message, I will get back to you as soon as possible.”

The sound of his twin’s voice, even in a recorded message, made Sam choke back a surprised sob, his hand tightening around the phone. He hadn’t known whose phone number this was when Bobby had written it down for him years ago, only that whoever it was knew about the supernatural and his family, and that they were available to help as a very last resort. Dean dying qualified as a last resort in Sam’s book.

“Spencer… it-it’s Sam. Bobby gave me your number… I know you probably weren’t expecting to hear from me again but,” Sam swallowed down the sob that threatened to escape his throat and continued. In all of the reunion scenes he’d pictured with his twin, none of them had involved him having to tell Spencer that Dean was dying. “Dean’s in a bad way. Something happened to his heart on our hunt yesterday. I know you haven’t tried to call us or anything for years, but Spencer-Dean needs you. I need you. Please call me back.”

* * *

 

Spencer swallowed heavily as he listened to the message from Sam for the third time. When he’d first heard it, he’d called Garcia immediately, practically begging her to find out where Sam and Dean were so he could go see his brothers. Her search still hadn’t yielded any answers three days later when John called him with a question about a case. John had told him about the reaper who had killed someone else and transferred his remaining years to Dean, then reminded him that he wasn’t supposed to contact his brothers. The ‘think of yourself as their guardian angel if you want’ had made Spencer roll his eyes before hanging up and doing his best to ignore the urge to go find his brothers.

Sixteen years of separation- of being alone- left Spencer desperate for some sort of contact from his brothers. The voicemail from Sam, despite the grim message, was all Spencer had of either of his brothers. He’d debated deleting it, but every time he tried, he couldn’t. Even if it was just a simple phone call, Sam had reached out to him, Sam had wanted him to be part of his life still. Spencer held no delusions that Sam and Dean had been told the truth of what happened that night sixteen years ago, he knew that John would have told them whatever he needed to in order to make them think that Spencer had abandoned them. They were both probably extremely angry with him; Spencer wouldn’t be surprised if they hated him. The fact that Sam had actually called him to tell him about Dean’s health meant the world to Spencer. Even if he hadn’t known whose number Bobby had given him, Sam could have hung up the phone as soon as he heard Spencer’s name, but he hadn’t. Instead, he’d told Spencer what was going on, he’d made the first move towards reconciliation and left the rest in Spencer’s hands.

He wanted to call Sam back, to ask how Dean was doing now rather than just take John at his word, to ask Sam if he was having any preternatural experiences. Instead, Spencer slipped the phone into his pocket and sighed. Sixteen years was a long time to go without contact, but it was for the best that he kept it that way. Sam and Dean had their life and he had his. It was better if he continued to protect them from afar like he’d been doing since he joined the Bureau. Maybe someday in the future they could reconcile, after John killed the demon that had killed their mom all those years ago, after Sam and Dean stopped hunting, after Spencer retired. Then they could get in contact again. His brothers were better off without having to air out the Winchester family dirty laundry.


End file.
